


Dance of the Damned

by the_fox333



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 18:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12488348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_fox333/pseuds/the_fox333
Summary: Inspired bythis





	Dance of the Damned

"So it is time," the man said. He stood tall, his broad shoulders set back and high with a formality that contrasted his unshaven stubble. His black hair looked tidy in its chaos, as though he had tried to slick it back but given up halfway through. He wore a tattered suit, its worn jacket unbuttoned to reveal a half-loosened tie and a shirt blotched with stains. Though his tone was resigned, the look on his face approached defiance, as if daring his companion to doubt his readiness. "You may collect your payment as we agreed."

"Hmmm." The man in the armchair raised an eyebrow in thought, fiddling with his own immaculately polished cufflinks. His hair, brown and close-cut, hid the base of the horns that rose above his head, short but nevertheless unsettling. "I admire that," he said out of nowhere. "Not even a single attempt to bargain, to run, to hide. I had my doubts about you, but..." Rising to his feet, he extended a hand. "Come," he beckoned. The taller man took his hand, and from nowhere and everywhere came the soft sound of violins beginning to play. "May I?" he asked simply, and when the taller nodded hesitantly, he placed a hand upon the other's shoulder and guided a hand to his own hip.

Slowly at first, the shorter man lead the motions, stepping delicately back and forth to the melancholy tune of the quiet orchestra. The sounds of outside had ceased, and for a moment, the run-down ballroom had become a place of mystery, its air thick with words unsaid and thoughts unheard. It was as though a spell had been cast on the place, and even the dusty furniture seemed to be carrying itself more nobly, waiting with bated breath as the two spun slowly across the great carpet. Each man kept their eyes on the other, exchanging looks that said everything and nothing. In silence, they moved to the drowsy tempo of the ethereal orchestra, light hand in darker, scuffed shoes alongside shining.

The instruments one by one receded until all that remained were the cello's soft thrum and the violin drawing out its mournful melody one last time. Leaning in slowly, the shorter man pressed his lips against the other's, dipping him down gracefully as he did so. The final note dying around them, he carefully straightened up. The tall man's body sunk as if in slow motion to the floor, and left in the grasp of the other was a pale transparent figure, unshaven and dressed in a tattered suit, its messy hair looking as though someone had tried to slick it back but given up halfway through. Its face was relaxed, a peaceful smile spreading over it as it closed its eyes.

Stepping slowly back, the shorter man watched as the figure turned and began to pace slowly away. With each step, it seemed to grow less and less visible until by the time it had reached the grand double doors it could no longer be seen. The man gazed down at the lifeless body lying on the ground before him, its eyes closed and lips curved in a contented smile. Soundlessly, he turned, light steps carrying him to the doors which opened with a quiet creak.


End file.
